


take my hand (i'll teach you to dance)

by coppertears



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Genderswitch, High School, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pining, School Dance, girl!Baek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:45:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7155983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coppertears/pseuds/coppertears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'cause lovers dance when they're feeling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take my hand (i'll teach you to dance)

  
**take my hand (i’ll teach you to dance)**  
girl!baekhyun/chanyeol  
pg-13  


 

 

 

 

 _’cause lovers dance when they’re falling in love_  
spotlight shining, it’s all about us  
every heart in this room will melt  
this is a feeling i’ve never felt but  
it’s all about us  


 

baekhyun stands with her back pressed against the wall, drowning in shadows and smears of neon. her delicate fingers trip over the rose appliques adorning her dress. she’s never been the one to inhale lungfuls of insecurity during social functions, never been the one to blend into the outskirts of the crowd, never been the girl lost from everyone else’s sight. but tonight she’s been sewn into the skin of someone she doesn’t know, and she’s getting intimate with a side of herself that’s been hidden for the longest time.

the school dance isn’t an ordinary one, and maybe that’s the problem. no one’s supposed to bring dates. all the girls are lined up on one side of the room, all the boys on the other, and if they want to dance with someone then they have to walk to the line tearing up the room in half. a hand stretched out to whoever has the courage to cross, an offering of time and grace. already there are couples smattered on the dance floor, bodies entwined and swaying to the sweetest murmurs of love, but most of the people are still packed at either side. baekhyun’s at the very back of all the girls gathered here, frustration trickling into her veins. _why aren’t you there?_ she asks herself. _why haven’t you walked to that line?_

as she scans the faces of the guys illuminated by the shifting colors of the lights above, she thinks she’s found her answer. there’s no telling if someone will come to meet her. she’s got friends, of course, but she can’t expect them to save her when she brings herself to the divide. she’s seen jongin bowing low before kyungsoo, the girl with the heart-shaped lips that he’s been enamored with for some time now; she’s seen kris take the few long strides separating him from a cold, aloof girl named huang zitao, another challenge to conquer. somewhere in the thick of testosterone she knows sehun is there, lingering, perhaps waiting for luhan’s tentative steps -- baekhyun wishes him luck, because he’s got a hundred other guys to fend off.

she can’t trust them, not really. they’re falling quick under the spells of the other girls, and it’s not like baekhyun’s ever asked them to catch her when she steps up. the only possibility left right now is sehun, and that’s just in case luhan decides to choose someone else. so baekhyun turns away, curls cascading down her back, and she heads for the drinks table. she might as well spend the night in the company of water tinted by fruit. at least drinks won’t ask her questions or encase her hands in sweat. _condensation_ , she remembers, taking the glass from the waiter. she brushes that worry away.

baekhyun leans against the edges of table and watches the small number of people walking to the middle. there are rejections: a girl wrapped in mint green, body stiff as she waits for someone to come and claim her; a guy frozen on the edges, his nerves wrung out of his hands. baekhyun wonders when they’ll notice each other’s solitary longing, or if they are far too filled with pride to give in to desperation. this is why the dance is such a bad idea. there are wallflowers in every event, sure, but it doesn’t have to be as publicly broadcasted as this.

strawberry seeps into her tongue by the time a clamor rises. baekhyun watches as a porcelain figurine of a girl detaches herself from the rest, steps slow and tentative over the tiles. almost at the same time, several guys move forward, and from the mop of blonde hair towering (mostly) above the rest, baekhyun knows who this is. it’s luhan, petite form swathed in shimmering lace and white silk, long hair undisturbed by each movement she makes. and baekhyun’s not invested in this, she’s not concerned at all, but still her eyes take in the convergence of people in the middle of the room. sehun’s younger than she is so maybe that’s why fear coils around her rib cage, and she stands there with her arms crossed and hoping, hoping, hoping that luhan will pick her friend.

luhan stops a few feet shy from the guys now standing in front of her. sehun’s there, somewhat in the middle, and baekhyun can see the way his adam’s apple bobs with anxiety. there is tension sliding thick and viscous into the atmosphere, and baekhyun wonders what’s going to happen next.

luhan’s hand drifts by her side, aimless, deprived of direction. her fingers draw patterns in the air. then she lifts it, points, and all the oxygen’s been drained out of the room.

it’s sehun.

 

 

 

 

 

it’s wasting away to midnight and more than half of the people have either been spurned or claimed. baekhyun’s been fluttering from food table to food table, sampling the cakes because no one else seems to be interested in doing so. it’s not until minseok, her mentor when she was still a freshman, gets claimed by jongdae that baekhyun wipes away the crumbs on her lips and contemplates walking to the middle. it’s not as if it’s too much of a risk, now that she considers it. so what if all the guys turn away?

she looks at minseok’s smile, blinding all the way, and wonders if there’s someone waiting for her the way jongdae’s been waiting for minseok. baekhyun tilts her head and observes the guys pretending that they’re not interested, not anymore, even though their eyes lift up once or twice. they don’t have the courage to try, and baekhyun suddenly doesn’t want to be lumped in with everyone else. _rejection be damned_ , baekhyun thinks. and maybe, maybe there is that slightest bit of hope sparking because baekhyun hasn’t seen him out on the dance floor yet, maybe --

her chest rises and fall with every deep breath. baekhyun steels herself, eyes scanning the people on the other side. she can’t find him. but she’s been watching the dance floor since a while ago, hasn’t seen the slightest hint of his face cutting through the darkness with another girl in his arms.

she steps forward, and it feels like the entire world’s on the verge of collapsing.

at least five figures draw away from the wall as well, heading towards the divide. baekhyun wonders if they’re for the other girls, but with a jolt she realizes that she’s alone. the thought makes her swallow down her courage in an instant and she directs her gaze to the floor, mind focused on just making the rest of the distance fade away beneath her feet. well, at least she isn’t one of the lonely cards open-faced and hoping for someone to pick her.

she stops the moment her shoes brush the red tape marking the middle. baekhyun lifts her head and absorbs the unfamiliar faces in front of her, each one wearing a smile that's both confident and easy, and all at once disappointment crawls into the pit of her stomach. _he's not one of them,_ she thinks, and tears prod her eyes.

she arranges a pleasant expression on her face and wonders who to pick now -- the guy with the gray suit, the guy who's just a bit taller than she is, the guy with the jet-black hair --

a breath shudders through, and it's intoxicating, this sudden rush. this one's not smiling, not at all, and his lips are pulled taut in a straight line. baekhyun only comes up to his chest even in her heels, and his hair's slicked back and styled to the hilt of messy perfection, and tonight his eyes seem darker than usual. the sheer willpower cloaking him like fine perfume is enough to make baekhyun's hands curl into fists. she's not ready.

still her hand rises, floats mid-air, a silent invitation. or is it, is it actually an acceptance of a request that's distilled in the half-quiet? baekhyun doesn't know. all she knows is the heat that engulfs her hand almost immediately, rough calluses scraping against her skin, and she knows it's from hours spent coaxing melodies from guitar strings. he leads her to an empty area on the dance floor, gaze turned away now, and baekhyun searches for composure but fails.

when he draws her into closed ballroom position -- his hand curled tight round hers, his other hand settling on the slope of her waist -- baekhyun looks up. and he’s looking down at her, the lines of his face defined by the darkness, eyes still powerful. chanyeol leans down, closing the space between them, and his voice sits deep and warm in the shell of her ear. “i’m sorry,” he says. “i’m a bad dancer.”

and baekhyun doesn’t know how she recovers enough to laugh, to flash him a smile, to say: “don’t worry. i’ll lead.”

chanyeol smiles back. “that’s good, then.”

 

 

 

 

she first meets him in the steps leading up to the roofdeck. baekhyun’s looking for air, for freedom, for a vacancy waiting to be filled by her own voice. it’s three hours away from choir practice and still she’s lacking, still missing that _something_ , and she just wants to run away from criticism. she finds herself climbing up to the roofdeck, feet urgent as they pound up the stairs, and she nearly misses the guy who’s laid out in front of the entrance, hands idly tuning the guitar in his lap.

chanyeol’s pretty well-known around campus as a ball of sunshine condensed in gorgeousness and enviable height, and baekhyun’s just one of the few who knows him more for his talent. she stops at the last step, eyes drawn to the frown turning down his lips, and she thinks that it’s not how everyone else sees him. then he stirs, realizing that there’s someone here, and he looks up at her with all the brilliance of happiness but without the sincerity.

“where are you going?” he asks, and baekhyun forgets what her answer is.

 

 

 

 

the speakers croon _i’ll be your crying shoulder_ and chanyeol’s gaze is steady on baekhyun. baekhyun wavers, just a tiny bit unsettled, heart just a tiny bit in chaos. he hasn’t stepped on her feet and he’s awkward, limb upon limb without coordination, but he’s trying his best.

and she can’t help but sing along to the song.

 

 

 

 

the roofdeck becomes her escape. it’s a place where no one judges, where no one sees her smash her frustrations on the walls, where no one can hear her go wrong on the same note _every single time_.

red stains the pristine white of the skies when baekhyun slides down to the ground one day, hopes spent and heart aching with undefined wounds. how to heal when there is no cure for emotion? she buries her face in her arms.

a body settles down next to her. “hey,” a voice says, the sound whipping into her ears and colliding with her thoughts. “you sounded really good.”

“i’m off-key,” baekhyun says, not bothering to look up.

“mm, for about a millisecond,” chanyeol says.

“a millisecond’s more than enough to ruin a performance.”

beside her, he hums. it’s the melody to the song she’s been failing to sing, and it makes her heart constrict. why can’t she get it right?

“don’t be so hard on yourself.” a palm weighs comfort on her shoulder and leaves it there. “you’re way better than you think you are. you’ll do well if you stop thinking about getting everything right.”

“then should i do it all wrong?” baekhyun retorts.

a chuckle. it soothes her a little. “no,” he says. “just sing.”

his footsteps resound even when dusk tiptoes beside baekhyun.

 

 

 

 

the way chanyeol gathers her close, almost as if he’s afraid he’ll lose her, makes baekhyun feel safe. they dance to a thousand different tunes that bleed sentimentality all over the walls, tunes that streak couples in a kind of beauty that is rare and impossible to replicate. and when chanyeol’s knee knocks against her leg, baekhyun just laughs. he’s really not good at this, she can tell, but he’s also perfect for this dance, this night.

“am i doing things right?” he asks, mouth hovering near the most sensitive part of baekhyun’s ear. a thrill shudders through her.

“no, not quite,” she says, and she feels the grin spreading over his face.

“then what should i do?”

“just dance,” she murmurs, “just dance.”

 

 

 

 

she falls in love with him in half-steps and full rests, in the middle of the music precipitating between them. gradually she gets the song right, until the only reason why she keeps going up to the roofdeck is because she wants to see him. and chanyeol’s always there, sometimes happy, sometimes sad, mostly serious and deep in thought. when he sees her he plays the instrumental of the song, and over the past few weeks baekhyun’s grown close enough to him to open her mouth and sing. her husky tone drips into the sunrays and the passing breeze, and there’s always that tiny smile curled feather-light on chanyeol’s lips.

but she knows, she knows she can’t stay. not for long.

 

 

 

 

“you stopped going to the roofdeck,” chanyeol says, and there is something about the way he utters those words that makes baekhyun think of lifeless objects.

"i didn't need to anymore," baekhyun says, maybe a bit regretful. "when the performance ended, i didn't have any reason left."

"i went to your show."

 

 

 

 

 

she remembers handing him the slip of paper. a flimsy ticket in exchange for hours of companionship. if the length and breadth of her feelings can be gathered, baekhyun thinks there will be no end.

"thank you," she says.

there is so much more left to rot unspoken on that roofdeck.

he nods and embraces the silence.

 

 

 

 

"i didn't see you."

"of course not."

chanyeol sways left, right, left, right.

“there was no point,” baekhyun repeats. “no need.”

and chanyeol stops. right in the middle of couples whirling and twirling and giving in to the music, the two of them just stop. he traps her in those eyes, desire and hurt and affection and willpower refracting through his irises. “am i not reason enough?”

baekhyun finds herself unable to answer.

 

 

 

 

_do you hear that, love?  
they’re playing our song_

 

the dance ends three hours into the new day, but when chanyeol lingers and doesn’t let go, baekhyun knows this is where it begins. her heart skips once, twice, thrice.

“do you love me?” chanyeol asks, and his gaze on her is intense. “baekhyun.”

“do _you_?”

and when chanyeol’s lips meet hers, when they’re so close they’re practically one body, when the lights around them begin to turn off and the people are on their way to leaving, baekhyun hears it loud and clear:

_yes._

“then yes,” she whispers against his neck. “yes, chanyeol, yes.”

she can already predict the gossip making the rounds tomorrow morning. as chanyeol presses a gentle kiss on her forehead, baekhyun finds that she doesn’t particularly care.

it’s a wish-sketched night, anyway.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
